Regrowing the Blossoms
by Nikkeni
Summary: One-shot. The war is finally over. Neville Longbottom visits Molly Weasley at the ruins of the Burrow. A son without his mother and a mother without her son slowly begin to flourish again. Love and hope prevail over grief and loss.


Regrowing the Blossoms

A lone man appeared just outside the rough stone walls that surrounded the ruins of the Burrow. He was a young man, you could tell that, yet with shoulders broad and squared, a hint of weariness to his frame. He quickly spun around, wand in hand, still wary of an attack even though the war had ended two weeks ago. He took the landscape in quickly, eyes scanning for any danger. Scorched fields, toppled walls, the burnt out husk of a home and- there! His reason for coming. He held his wand a little looser as he approached.

She was kneeling down in what might have been a garden once. Now, the beds had been torn up, the grass was dotted with stray debris and a lone Fluttershy bush remained stubbornly if dubiously upright and blooming in a corner. She had a tray of seedlings beside her, and she was transplanting them into fresh soil, rows of tilled earth ready for new growth. She wasn't using a wand, he noticed. Most witches and wizards would, just one flick and everything would be ready.

As he approached, she heard him and turned around so rapidly he nearly fell back from the shock of that sudden movement. Her eyes were puffy and her hand gripped her wand so tightly he could almost hear the knuckles crack. He held up his hands, wand pointing at the sky to show he meant no harm, but she didn't stop pointing the wand at him as she slowly rose from the ground. Earth fell from her knees as she stood and peered at him.

"Neville Longbottom. What was the last thing I said to you before you left with Augusta?"

"That I looked like I could use a square meal or four. What did I say to that?"

"That you would be willing for eight after the day you'd had."

He chuckled sheepishly as he remembered. She smiled and Molly Weasley, former mother of seven, dropped her wand into her apron pocket and brought Neville in to a hug. She stepped back and patted his cheek gently. He still hadn't gotten around to shaving properly, so a patchwork beard was slowly taking shape.

"You still look a little thin, dear. How is she?"

"I think she's caught between telling me how awful my beard is, and how she always knew I was my father's son."

She tutted softly. Her hands grasped the young man's shoulders as if reassuring herself he was solid. That he was alive, still.

"Well, you're looking much like he did at your age. She may have a point about the beard though."

Neville just shook his head ruefully. He was still adjusting to the new life set out before him after the war had finally been ended. Shaving was a secondary concern to what had been going on lately.

"Come, sit down. I've got some tea. You wanted to talk to me about something, right dear?"

She ushered him over to a table, with a tea set on it and a chair on either side. He sat, pondering what to say as Mrs Weasley began to fuss with the cups and saucers and all the trappings that went into it. Steam billowed up from the teapot spout as she poured and he began to speak.

"Yes… I wanted to… to thank you."

She passed him a mug and smiled encouragingly, dusting a little earth from her apron with the other hand. Her smile was a little brittle. Perhaps she had an inkling of why he was here. Neville swallowed and continued, words all muddled up in a rush of syllables.

" _Iwantedtothankyouforkillingher_ "

Her smile dropped further. She took a sip of tea and replied softly.

"Bellatrix?

"Yes, her. Thank you"

Mrs Weasley sighed. She set the cup down, and inhaled slowly and deeply.

"Look, dear. I didn't enjoy killing that… that _woman_. She was about to hurt Ginny and I just… snapped."

She looked away, across the garden to where the front door of the Burrow used to be. The walls had been torn apart, bricks, beams and slates scattered across the fields surrounding it. Everything was blackened by spellfire and barely recognizable as the different levels that once made up the Burrow.

She turned back to look right at Neville, jaw set, head held high.

"I did what I had to. She was a menace and right then, in that moment, I just wanted her gone. I wanted her gone so she couldn't hurt anyone again. I wanted her _gone_.

Neville swallowed. Her voice was chilling, when it was normally so full of warmth. Most people thought of Kingsley Shacklebolt, Flitwick or Professor McGonagall when considering the best fighters in the War. Nobody would have thought Molly Weasley, a slightly frazzled, dumpy housewife could have taken down Bellatrix Lestrange herself. Bellatrix had dueled three on one before Mrs. Weasley stepped in and killed Lestrange... still, he supposed that when her children were in danger, Mrs. Weasley's ferocity would overwhelm any duelist.

"I know, Mrs. Weasley. I just want to thank you for ending it."

Her face softened.

"You've wanted to fight her ever since your fifth year, right dear? I remember Ginny telling me how focused you became in that DA of yours."

"That's right, Mrs. Wea-"

He jumped as she stamped her foot quickly, huffing irritably.

"Oh for heaven's' sake, call me Molly. You would have been doing that anyways. If your parents hadn't… Well, you know…"

He gaped a little. She knew his parents? Nobody had told him. Not Ron, not Ginny, not even Gran. She continued, smiling a little now.

"I used to know them. Through the Order, you see. Alice was a sweet girl. Frank didn't talk much, but he adored your mother, anyone could see that. Then they went into hiding, and I didn't hear a thing until the attack. I would have liked to have gotten to know her better. And you. Tiny thing, then."

Neville was blinking rapidly, struggling with the prickling threat of tears in his eyes. Molly was off in a world of her own memories though.

"My… my brothers were in it too, back in the first war. Before they were killed by Death Eaters."

Neville swallowed thickly. He had no clue that Mrs. Weasley- no, that Molly had lost people in the first war too. She looked immeasurably forlorn right now, her hands almost white as they clutched the cup of tea.

"I'm sorry, I had no idea about them."

She looked up, smiled sadly. Not a smile. More a grimace of grief.

"It's alright, dear. Fabian and Gideon died long before you were born. I'll never forget the pain but it dulls in time."

She shifted in her seat, setting the cup down on the table and

"They were twins you see. Just like F-fred and George. Rascals, both of them. They fought together, died together."

She smiled proudly, straightening a little. Beside her, the Fluttershy bush seemed to straighten with her, the blossom-wings beating almost cheerfully.

"They were only brought down from the sheer numbers, but they gave as good as they got, you can be sure as that. Fine men. Good men.

She slumped again, shoulders falling loosely. The Fluttershy bush drooped and became much slower.

" _Dead_ men". The bush stilled entirely, seeming to curl into itself.

Neville didn't know what to say. She seemed lost in remembering her brothers. A breeze flowed through the garden, passing softly over the table and the two survivors seated on opposite sides of it. The silence stretched like the years, almost two decades since the end of the first war and only mere days after the end of the second. He didn't have the words to describe what he was going through yet, but they would come. In time. He started as she spoke again, almost aggressively cheerful in tone.

"How are your parents doing, dear? I heard that they're at home again?"

"That's right. With the war casualties, every Healer still working is helping with the curse damage and other injuries from the last year or so. They needed the beds, and Mum and Dad are fairly stable. They're home now, and Mungo's sends a nurse over every afternoon to check on them."

"Nice to be back home, instead of in that ward with that charlatan Lockhart and Merlin knows who else."

Neville chuckled. He knew Mrs. We- Molly had been a huge fan of Lockhart before the whole second year debacle. Plus, he liked seeing his parents in the family home again. Less sterile, more comforting than the hospital.

"Mum seems to like the change of scenery. She said hi to Gran last week."

"Is that out of the ordinary?"

"She doesn't really talk much. The doctors said they're hesitant to decide if it'll be a permanent improvement but they think being at home might suit them better. Dad is awake a lot more too."

"That's wonderful dearie. I'll have to call over and see them sometime.

She smiled brightly at him, before sipping her tea again.

"And how're you doing yourself?"

"Just helping out with reconstruction at the moment. Levitating debris aside, getting ready for the proper repairs to Hogwarts"

"I might drop by sometime, see if Minnie needs anything."

"Minnie?"

Molly laughed, a single bright peal of laughter. She resettled herself in the chair, hands still on the mug.

"Your Professor McGonagall. She hates being called that, you know. Absolutely _hates_ it."

Beside her, the Fluttershy bush almost shivered with joy. Strange, Neville noted. Sprout had mentioned plants growing in tune with those who cared for them before, but he'd never really seen a Fluttershy bush of all things react like that. Molly noticed him staring at it.

"Yes, that old thing was here for Bill and Fleur's wedding. Stubborn, that's what it is. Survived two attacks and it's still hanging on."

Neville remembered hearing about it from Ginny. The Patronus message from Kingsley, the Death Eaters looking for Harry, the interrogations. Such a happy occasion for the eldest Weasley boy, ruined by the war. He remembered, suddenly, the small, battered package in his pocket. He pulled it out.

"Mrs Wea-"

She glared at him.

" _Molly_ , I wanted to give you these. They're seeds from our greenhouses."

She softened, taking the package from him and unwrapping the brown paper and string around the seed bags. He'd included everything he could think of, vegetable seeds, some of the hardier flowers, herbs, of the mundane and magical kinds, all sorts of durable, useful plants. Hopefully it was enough.

"Thank you dear. Would you mind planting them for me? The plots are clear enough, I think. My magic hasn't been that strong lately..."

He nodded tightly, stood, and ripped the first seed bag open. It was known to happen, after traumatic events. Your magic suffered, your control and power reduced by the stress of the event. For Molly, to have lost a son… that had to have hit hard.

He levitated the first seeds out, and with another hand poured the next bag out. The seeds floated in front of him, whirling around him and almost jauntily bobbing up and down. More seeds poured out of the bags, and Molly nodded approvingly. He was good at Herbology, and he had a lot of practice at this. Planting had always been so fun, so magical. So much potential for new life in every seed. The seeds spun higher and higher around him, until as the last bag emptied, he thrust his wand straight up into the sky. The seeds flew into the air, spinning in a spiral above his head before crashing down in a torrent into the garden.

Molly beamed as the seeds flowed across the garden, burying themselves in the soil. The boy could teach by Herbology himself in a few years, she imagined. As the final seeds dug themselves into their new plots, she rose and stood next to Neville.

"Thank you. I'll make it better than the old garden in no time."

She looked across her home and winced. There was still much work to do before the damage could be undone, that was for sure.

"I still can't believe it's finally over. No more Snatchers. No more raids. No more…"

Neville watched as she shuddered and grimaced. It was still hard to say it without thinking of the Taboo that had broken so many people's covers in the war. She rounded her shoulders and bit it out.

"No more bloody _V-voldemort_! There!"

She grinned then, and he saw glimmers of Ron and the twins in her smile.

"We beat them. Oh, it took a long while but we still did it. And you were a big part of it dear. Your parents would be so proud of you!"

She faltered, and Neville himself was struggling to blink back tears. Gran was proud of him, but he would never be able to hear it from them. He would never be fussed over by them, checked for injuries, to see if he was okay or not. Gran had, in her detached way. Pomfrey had when she finally got to hurriedly examine him after the worst casualties were packed off to St Mundos and she had time to rest for a minute. But his parents were still lying in their beds, unresponsive but for rare flashes of the people they were before the _Cruciatus_ robbed them of their minds.

Molly was thinking of her own sons. How proud she was of them. How worried she was when she heard Hogwarts was under siege. How she tried to make Ginny stay in the Room of Requirement. How Bill and Fleur had fought together, him casting shield charms and slinging curses while she rained fireballs down on the Death Eaters, her beautiful face transformed into a cruel, avian visage. How Charlie had come in the last hour of the Battle, bringing his colleagues and a vicious dragon with him.

And Percy. Percy coming home. Percy coming back to his family to fight the good fight, casting like an Auror. The smudged glasses. The feeling of having her child back in her arms.

But then, another child in her arms. One of two twins, one dead, the other broken. A heavy weight in her arms, spattered with her tears, heart in her throat. A million thoughts about how hard she was on her son. The way she talked about their pranking. The rage at finding the Owl Order forms. The pressure to go into the Ministry or something _respectable_ instead of the silly joke shop. But then she saw the shop. She saw the products, the crowd of customers, the magic they created, and their commitment to light-hearted fun in a world where laughter had been in increasingly short supply. She saw them shine.

She saw blank eyes, and his frozen, laughing face. She saw the grave just behind the house, she saw Fre- no, George standing over it, staying there through the night until he became too tired to stand.

Fred Weasley would never know just how proud she was of him.

But here, right now, was another son. She had lost a son, he had never really had a mother. He needed a mother's love, even if it was not his mother giving it.

They blinked, staring at each other, frozen. They didn't know how long they were there, two figures in the fading light.

And then she enveloped him in a tight hug, one that smelt like roses and earth and _home_. Without even thinking he returned the embrace, shaking slightly from the emotions still running through him. They stood like that for an eternity, each feeling like they would fall if they didn't have the other to hold onto. Tears that had been on the verge of falling for the last hour now found the moment to trickle slowly down their cheeks. .She turned her head slightly and whispered softly in his ear.

"Your parents would have been very proud of you, dear. Besides themselves with worry but _proud_. Never forget that."

They separated, Molly holding onto Neville's shoulder again, wiping a tear or two from her eyes with a handkerchief pulled from- Neville had no idea, actually. It was just there. She dabbed at her eyes and smiled again.

"I'll come visit Augusta and yourself in a few days. To see your parents, too."

Neville nodded, dragging a sleeve across his own eyes.

"That's great. Great. Perfect."

She laughed suddenly, shocking him again. She doubled over, giggling as Neville stood there, arms limp, mouth open. What set that off?"

She eventually straightened up, clutching at her stomach, wiping tears of laughter this time with the mysteriously-sourced handkerchief.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Neville. It's just that I was going to invite you and Augusta to tea at Prewett Manor. We're staying with Aunt Muriel until we can rebuild here, but oh my goodness, the thought of that woman in the same room as Mrs. Longbottom! They'd be cursing each other blue before you could pour them a cuppa."

Neville blinked slowly before shuddering. He hadn't yet met Muriel but Ginny had told him enough. Gran… well Gran wasn't exactly the best guest to have over on a good day, let alone one where Muriel might be present. Molly laughed at his expression, patting him on a shoulder.

"I'll see you in a few days to visit, dear. Safe travels."

"Thank you Mrs Wea- ."

Neville stepped away from her, before turning smoothly and Apparating away with a crack. Molly's face changed the instant he left, becoming harder, filled with deeper lines. She sighed in exhaustion then, knowing that while the war was over, the scars left by it would take much time to heal. Neville was a good lad, but he had been so angry for the last few years about Bellatrix that it would take him a while to have a new purpose. Hopefully the tentative improvements to his parents' health would give him something to live for. She smiled, with a mix of grief and joy before turning to the garden. More work had yet to be done.

She plucked her wand from her pocket, holding it in her hands, tracing a finger across it. She pointed it up in the air, trying to gather her strength.

" _Herbivicus_!"

She paused. Waited.

Nothing.

She sighed. Maybe her magic still needed time. Maybe it was still far too soon after his death to try and regrow the garden.

Suddenly exhausted, she sat back down in her chair and closed her eyes. The fading sunlight warned her face as she fell into a shallow slumber. The world slowed, held its breath. She deserved rest. She deserved a moment of peace.

But then, as she dreamed of happier days, all around her, the garden burst into motion. Stems and stalks peeked out of the soil, leaves formed and unfurled, flowers bloomed. The Fluttershy bush grew an inch or so taller, its blossoms flitted contently, and if it could hum, it probably would be. The garden glittered with new life. And Molly Weasley allowed herself to relax in her sleep for the first time since she lost a son, defeated a dark witch and won a war.

\--

 **Hope you enjoyed the one-shot. It occurred to me that Neville would have been very glad to know that his parents' main torturer was dead, and Molly just so happens to be the one that kills her.** **Leave any feedback in the comments. It's messy but I've been thinking about it a lot and had to get it down.**


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